


Day of Rest

by KuriKoer



Category: Mob City
Genre: Day Off, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:07:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5994295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKoer/pseuds/KuriKoer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>theicescholar: "You could write that one fic where Sid has a day off (the closest he gets to having a day off) and what he does with  his day. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day of Rest

It's Sid's day off. First Sabbath-like day in at least seven months - it's a Tuesday, but who's counting.

Benny and Mickey and the others, they have their parties, their decadence, but Sid, like Meyer, tends to stick to work. He'll go to their clubs with them, but he's on guard, glancing around, gun never too far from his hand. He's on the clock. He doesn't enjoy those damn loud parties anyhow.

He enjoys spending another half-hour in bed, luxuriating in not having to be anywhere in particular. No one would accuse Sid Rothman of being lazy, but no one really knows him well enough to have seen him sprawling in bed, cocooned in blankets. No one who wasn't there for the night before, anyway. Sid closes his eyes to the morning sun - LA has plenty of that - and plots the day ahead.

He thinks to stay in, read a book that's been waiting for him on the nightstand since last year. Take a stroll under the palm trees at around ten, get a late breakfast at this decent diner around the corner. Maybe go to the beach, fold up his pants and wade in the shallows. He smiles to himself, thinking of the warmth of the sand.

A long, luxurious shower and a quick shave later, Sid is spic and span and ready to enjoy the day to the full. In his light suit and hat he strides down the street, pleased with the weather so much he allows himself the occasional smile at a pretty lady, a smile often returned. It's been a while since he's had anyone smile at him sincerely, not in that ingratiating, terrified way.

Over a plate of the best eggs and ham on the West coast - his grandmother would roll in her grave - Sid contemplates the rest of his day. After the ocean, he could go see the matinee, something funny, light-hearted. Then home for a nap, and dinner at a quiet restaurant... Maybe he'll take in a show later tonight. Elman was in town, he remembers hearing about it. Must be tickets left, for the right people.

"Mr. Rothman? Sir?"

Sid glances up. He recognizes the kid on sight, but can't come up with a name; one of those errand boys who'll never make more than errand boys. Nerves aren't conducive to a career as a hitman, and this guy didn't look smart enough to go into accounting. He raises an eyebrow. The kid swallows, narrow chicken-neck bobbing.

"It's Mr. Siegel, sir. There's uh, there's a situation going on down at the, uh, Venice offices..."

Sid is already getting up, pulling off his napkin, throwing down a few bills. He's two steps ahead of the kid by the time they're out of the restaurant. He needs to get to a phone, call someone who has a clue. The kid better have a car with him. He only has his ankle spare on him, better stop by and pack more heat before heading out to meet trouble. _Damnit, Benny_ , he sighs internally. One fucking day off.


End file.
